You Are Free

1.Rebekah opens by describing the exhaustion that comes from striving — the sense that freedom is something you have to earn or maintain. How would you describe your own relationship with striving right now? Does rest feel like a reward you haven't yet earned, or a gift you're allowed to receive?

2.The book's central claim is that Jesus speaks freedom in the present tense: not 'you will be free' or 'you can be free,' but 'you are free.' Why do you think so many Christians live as though freedom is still in the future? What makes that present-tense declaration hard to believe?

1.Rebekah draws a distinction between the rest the world offers (distraction, escape) and the rest Jesus offers ('rest for your souls,' Matthew 11:29). In your own words, what is the difference? Which kind have you been seeking most often?

2.She describes how the pressure to meet others' expectations can masquerade as virtue — it looks like faithfulness, service, or responsibility. Have you ever used busyness or people-pleasing as a kind of spiritual cover? What were you afraid might happen if you slowed down?

1.Rebekah challenges the idea that good Christians should always be joyful or 'fine.' Where did you learn that negative emotions were spiritually suspect? Was that message from family, church, culture — or all three?

2.She points to Jesus weeping at the tomb of Lazarus (John 11:35) even though He knew He was about to raise him. What does it tell you about God that He wept anyway? What does that mean for your own grief or sadness?

1.Rebekah argues that ungrieved loss doesn't disappear — it goes underground, showing up later as anxiety, numbness, or bitterness. Is there a loss in your own life — a relationship, a dream, a season — that you have never fully grieved? What has kept you from doing so?

2.Jesus pronounces a blessing on those who mourn: 'they will be comforted' (Matthew 5:4). Why do you think mourning is a prerequisite for that particular comfort? What does the act of mourning make possible that bypassing grief cannot?

1.Rebekah distinguishes between guilt (I did something wrong) and shame (I am something wrong). Have you felt the difference in your own experience? Which one do you struggle with most, and how does it shape your daily life?

2.She talks about the masks of perfection we wear — the curated versions of ourselves we present to the world and sometimes even to God. What masks are you most tempted to wear? What are you most afraid people would see if the mask came off?

1.Rebekah points to the story of the woman at the well (John 4) as a picture of what it means to be fully known. Jesus knew her entire history — and chose to speak to her, honor her, and invite her into His mission. What does this story stir in you personally?

2.She argues that we cannot be truly loved if we are not truly known — that connection built on a curated version of ourselves is, at best, only partial. Do you have relationships where you are fully known? If not, what keeps you from moving toward that kind of depth?

1.Rebekah describes her own anxiety as something that overtook her life — not a minor worry but a force that shaped her decisions, relationships, and sense of self. How do you relate to her story? Is anxiety a minor inconvenience in your life or something more central?

2.She draws a distinction between anxiety as a symptom (pointing to something deeper that needs attention) and anxiety as a permanent identity. How does that distinction change the way you think about your own anxious thoughts or feelings?

1.Rebekah distinguishes between forgiveness as a feeling (which may take time) and forgiveness as a decision (which we can make right now). Have you found that distinction helpful in your own experience, or does it still feel murky?

2.In the parable of the unmerciful servant (Matthew 18), the servant who is forgiven an enormous debt immediately turns and refuses to forgive a tiny one. What does Jesus suggest this reveals about the servant's heart? What might it reveal about ours when we withhold forgiveness?

1.Rebekah argues that the fear of failure is one of the primary forces keeping women from stepping into God's purposes. On a scale of 1 to 10, how much does fear of failure drive your decisions? What is the failure you are most afraid of right now?

2.She connects perfectionism to a distorted view of God — the sense that His approval is conditional on our performance. How has that view of God shaped your spiritual life, your work life, or your relationships? Where did that image of God come from?

1.Rebekah draws a sharp distinction between service that comes from a full heart and service that comes from empty obligation. How can you tell the difference in your own motivations when you serve? What feelings accompany each kind?

2.She argues that true service requires first receiving — you cannot give what you do not have. How does this apply to your own seasons of over-giving? Have you ever served from a place of genuine depletion, and what were the effects?

1.Rebekah opens the theme of beginning again by acknowledging how frightening it is — the uncertainty, the possibility of another failure, the grief of leaving the familiar behind. What makes beginning again hard for you specifically? Is it fear of failure, attachment to the past, or something else?

2.God says through Isaiah: 'Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing!' (Isaiah 43:18–19). Is there a 'former thing' — a past hurt, a past identity, a past season — that you are having trouble releasing? What would it look like to stop dwelling on it?

1.Rebekah closes the book by circling back to Isaiah 61 and Jesus' reading of it in Luke 4 — the announcement that He came to set captives free, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor. How does Jesus' mission description become a description of our mission as His people?

2.She argues that the freedom you've received uniquely equips you to reach people who are still in the particular bondage you've been set free from. Is there an area of bondage in your past that might become a bridge to someone else? What would it look like to use your story as a gift rather than a secret?

1.Looking back across all eleven chapters, which single idea, story, or illustration from Rebekah's book has stayed with you most persistently? Why do you think that particular thing landed so deeply?

2.At the beginning of this study, you identified the forms of bondage you were carrying — the yokes that had become normal. Revisit what you wrote or thought then. What has changed? What has been loosened, even partially?